Attention
by SmileandWaveBoys
Summary: *Warning: BoO spoliers* Jason never wanted to be struck with that stupid sword, and he sure as heck didn't ask for it. He also didn't like the feeling he got after it. Not just the actual pain, but the feeling of being useless. He especially didn't want to look bad in front of everyone else. Though he knows he's got to learn to suck it up, and she's just the reminder. JASPER


**A/N: I'm just gonna go ahead and warn you once: this entire chapter is based on a spoiler; the only thing that's not a spoiler is this specific scene that I'm writing in here. I only suggest that you read this if you are okay with spoilers or if you already read _The Blood of Olympus_.**

**This one-shot is going out to AlxGrace who requested for one of the moments in the book. I chose this one because it was the first one to pop into my head. Thanks for reviewing to my stories!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson characters at all.**

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The second night after Jason got stabbed mercilessly in his stomach, all he felt was pain. True, it was bad the previous day, but now it was like everything had multiplied tenfold. Why? He wouldn't know, of course. He'd never been hurt this deeply before by a blade. If it hadn't been for Piper and her first-aid kit skills, he would have been done for.

Not to mention everyone staring at him like he'd just been wiped away from battle without hesitation. Like he'd been defeated utterly. And it was weird, being the one who needed to be taken care of, though it happened to him a lot recently ever since the _Argo II _landed in Camp Jupiter. Ever since that stupid brick hit him, and then it was one unconsciousness after the other.

He felt useless. He hated feeling useless.

Especially when Piper came in his room later that night to check on his bandages. She walked right in, her bag filled with old Cherokee remedies that she brought with her from Camp Half-Blood that used to belong to her grandfather, or as Piper called him, Grandpa Tom. Despite his uncomfortable position on his bed and the ever-aching feeling that was brought by the large wound on his stomach, he somehow managed to smile at the sight of her.

"Here to mummify me again?" He asked bitterly but teasingly, eyeing the bandages in her arms.

He vaguely saw her lips twitch up a little before bringing them down, her eyebrows furrowing once more into a serious expression. "You'd know it. I also brought some enchanted dream catchers that my grandfather used to have so you can sleep better. You need them more than anyone, really."

Jason frowned at that, knowing that she knew him too well to argue much. "How do you know that they'll help?"

She shrugged. "If there are such things as Greek and Roman myths coming alive, then there might be such a thing as Cherokee myths doing the same. After all, the Ancient Greeks and Romans were one of the first civilizations ever. And the Cherokees and Native Americans...well, they might as well be called Ancient Americans, I guess. Or at least that's what my dad used to say."

He grinned at her, only wincing slightly at the surge of pain, refusing to show much facial expression to her. Looking useless in front of your friends was one thing. Being useless in front of your girlfriend was another.

Though he tried his best to remain still, she still glanced up at him when she saw how rigid he was keeping his body from her. "You don't have to keep acting, you know. No one can be stabbed in the stomach like that and be expected to be calm about it," she said plainly.

He only shrugged slightly.

She rolled her eyes, dropping the discussion for now, and she glanced over at her bag of bandages. "Here," she said while grabbing the soft but sturdy roll of covering. She rolled it around her hand before nodding toward his chest and looking up at him. "Can you take off your shirt, or should I?"

He blinked at her, trying his best to resist the teenage thoughts infiltrating his mind, and attempted to lift up his shirt. While able to lift up a little more than a quarter of his shirt before flinching horribly in pain, Piper instinctively reached forward immediately and helped him out of the shirt. With her palms brushing gently across his stomach, carefully not touching the wound, and her body so close to his that he was able to smell her fresh blooming flower-like scent, he tried his best to remember how to function his lungs in order to breathe properly again, even without the worry of his wound.

Gently but as quickly as possible, Piper took out a wash cloth and dabbed it into a tub of water that was beside the bed and reached over to clean the wound so he wouldn't get an infection. "Tell me if it hurts too much, alright?"

He didn't even get the chance to answer her question before she started. After a few seconds of almost agonizing pain, she began to talk again. He couldn't really focus on what she was saying, but he did catch a couple of phrases such as "Leo burned the kitchen appliances again" and "Frank had gotten so startled because of the fire, that he transferred into a bunny, though he probably had forgotten that his burning stick was with Leo" and a bunch of other nothings.

It was then that Jason realized that she was doing this on purpose, so his mind could go somewhere else than the pain that she was inflicting on him. He was grateful for it, so he tried his best to pay more attention to her.

He also noticed that it wasn't that hard. Now that he was looking at her face instead of the wound, he noticed that while her tone was light and not at all concerning about anything, her expression on her face was just the opposite. She looked worrisome and almost...scared. He saw in her the effort it took for her to act completely normal about this, and it was then that he realized that her hands were in an almost strained manner. Like it was all that was in her to keep her hands from shaking.

She probably noticed how he had gotten quiet so fast because she looked up from her work, and almost immediately, her face went back to how it was when she first walked in: not caring. She straightened her body a little to look at him in the eyes. "What?" she asked defensively.

"How can _you _act so calm about me being stabbed in the stomach like that?" he whispered, looking deep into her eyes searching for an answer, even though in a way he already knew. She was doing it for his sake alone.

But still, if the places had been switched and she was the one sitting on the bed that was on the verge of nearly dying... His body instinctively flinched, the pain that was inflicting upon him wasn't just from the wound anymore. The thought of this girl dying...it was too much to handle. And thinking on it in horror, if Piper died in the final battle (which she _wouldn't_; Jason would make sure of that), he would die too in a way. All the depression, all the sadness, all the..._longing_ for Piper McLean would fill him up so much that he would begin to lose his identity. He wouldn't be himself.

He didn't even know that he was clenching Piper's hands to the point where he almost felt that he would break her bones, or that his eyes were glued shut from all the bloody images that some sick devil placed in his brain until Piper finally reached over to him and gently placed her body on his upper legs, and stationed her forehead against his. "Hey..." she murmured, trying to shake her hands out of his death grip. It obviously didn't work, considering that Jason only tightened his hold onto her and refused to let her go. "Don't worry I'm not going anywhere."

It then occurred to him that he might have been talking out loud when he thought those horrid thoughts about her, and that only made him scared to lose her even more, even though he was _sure _that nothing in her competition could completely defeat someone as amazing as her. It would take a lot to bring down the spirit and actuality of Piper McLean.

She chuckled, the sound making him relax a little against her. "You're the one who was impaled by a sword, and you're scared for _me_." He focused on her words, letting them bring him back to reality, and he realized she wasn't even charmspeaking him, and yet her words were the biggest impact on him at all in his entire life. She was the one that anchored him back down to her. To hope.

She ran her hands and fingers up and down his chest and across his arms, making his once furrowed eyebrows straighten out until he could finally breathe again (or as much as he could; Piper was still unbearably close to him). She leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips before smiling softly. "Better?"

He nodded at her before returning the smile and leaning over to kiss her more properly. She ran her hands up his chest again, this time a little more rushed, making him wrap his arms around her tightly but enough so that he wasn't hurting in his stomach, and she placed one of her hands on the side of his neck, completely obliterating all thoughts about his wound and new insecurities and he was overall elated that he met her in the first place. She was his and only his just as he was to her.

And most definitely not some mentally insane earth goddess would ever be able to change that. Nothing could. Eventually, Piper pulled away from him, making his eyesight and thought process disorientated for a good while, and she reached over to finally open her other bag, pulling out a Native American dream catcher.

He was immediately entranced by it, to say the least. True, it looked very regal with its feathers that flowed nicely with the well woven net above it, but that wasn't what caught his attention the most. It was the colors of the dream catcher. They were inconsistent; in random blotches there were blue and green, in others there were hazel and brown. He looked up at her in awe after studying the object thoroughly. "So, you like it? Or if you don't want it, then I could take it back if you want... I'm not even sure if it will work completely. It's just something that Grandpa Tom always used to ramble on about..." she started to say.

He cut her off with another long-lasting kiss, and when they pulled away, he grinned. "Yeah," he said, feeling one of the goofiest smiles ever to be made in history when he was with her (it really_ only_ happened when he was with her). "It reminds me of someone who means everything to me. And that if I lose her, then I'll fall apart completely, and this dream catcher will be the only thing that can be nearly perfectly described as her," seeing her face completely flush with humbleness at the compliments directed at her, he continued, a feeling of smugness overtaking him, "so, yeah. I love it. Just like I love the person who gave it to me."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him, though her forced frown was nearly coming apart. No, scratch that, it completely collapsed because then she couldn't handle it anymore and burst out laughing. He looked at her peculiarly before asking, "What?"

She shook her head, the smile still covering her face. "One moment you're scared and nearly on the verge of collapsing, and the other you're the sappiest romantic alive. As predictable as you are, Grace, I'm never going to understand you."

He grinned, taking that as a compliment before kissing her for the countless time that night, completely loving the taste and feeling of her against him like that. In a way, he was sort of glad that Coach Hedge wasn't there to scold them for being alone in his room that night, even though Buford the Table had a say in it. Because with Piper, he didn't feel so useless, though he was basically the patient and she was the one nursing him back to health, or whatever the heck he would do his best to go back to.

He figured that, yeah, he didn't like attention from his friends or acquaintances or enemies or...well, you get the idea. But if his Piper was the one that was giving him this kind of attention for the rest of his life and the afterlife, then he was more than okay with it.

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**A/N: You know me. Never checking over for mistakes until it's too late. Then I decide if it's worth fixing or not.**

**Hope you liked this! Review and tell me what you think.**

**Till next time,**

**Penguin**


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